Forgive and Forget
by Scarlett Oakenshield
Summary: A relaxing day at the beach turns to disaster when Japan sees the scar on America's chest and remembers that day... Just a little one-shot.


A day at the beach turns to disaster when the scar on America's abdomen causes Japan to remember that day...

Japan and America sat side by side on the sand at one of the beaches in Maui. It was a beautiful day, and a gentle breeze was in the air, despite the fact that it was very hot. They watched from their spot on the blanket under their umbrella, as kids splashed about in the warm green water. America had decided that the two of them needed to relax at the beach, because it was summer and the weather was nice.

The blond was wearing American flag print swim trunks and a t-shirt, while Japan wore dark blue ones. His uniform jacket was around his shoulders, revealing his white tank top, and his uniform pants were folded up in the beach bag. He wiggled his toes in the warm sand, using his arms for support as he leaned back slightly and looked out at the water, watching and listening to the waves as they crashed upon the sand. It was quite relaxing, despite the delighted squeals from the frolicking children.

"It's so beautifulr out here." Japan said.

"Yeah, I know right?" America replied. "Its always this nice."

Then he got up, "Well I'm gonna go for a swim. Wanna join me?"

"Thank you, but no. I'd rather just sit and rerax on the beach instead."

"Really? You don't wanna come in the water? Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure. But maybe I'lr join you rater."

"Well, okay..." awkward silence, then America interrupted again. "Are you sure you won't even put your feet in? Honestly, the water's warm. You don't even have to go that far in."

Japan pondered for a moment then said, "I suppose I courld."

"Cool!" America exclaimed. He took off his t-shirt and threw it in a ball on the blanket. Then he held out a hand to help the shorter nation up. Japan was halfway off the blanket, when he froze as he caught sight of a long,thin white scar on America's abdomen. He knew where it had come from. A wave of memory hit him. He let go of America's wrist and sank back into the ground.

"Dude what's wrong?"

Japan shook his head, "I can't rook." He said. He looked down at the ground.

"What's the-oh." He sat back down next to him, "Dude, honestly, that scar is nothing. It doesn't matter. That was like, 70 something years ago."

Japan looked back up at America. "Seventy-four, I stilr can never forgive myself."

"Seriously bruh? You shouldn't be the one feeling guilty, I should. Think about what I did to you."

"You were forced to do that. I wasn't. I had no reason to do what I did. Seeing that scar makes me remember that day..."

-xXx-

It was 6:30 in the morning. The date was December 7th, 1941. The US navy was floating peacefully in Pearl Harbor. There was a slight breeze in the air, and it was a gentle, tranquil day. The sun had not fully risen yet, painting the sky in beautiful hues of pink and orange. America sat on the edge of the quarterdeck of the U.S.S. Arizona watching the sun rise. It was hard to believe that there was a war going on on the other side of the world.

The blond let himself be enveloped in the beauty of the dawn. He watched as the sun rose slowly into the sky. The sound of a distant bugle horn was heard, and, although it was beautiful, it was still an ominous sound. America figured that it was because of the war in Europe that the horn seemed eerie.

-xXx-

Suddenly, America thought he heard the sound of distant plane engines over head. He looked up, approaching the harbor was nothing but a flock of birds in the sky. He shrugged and then scanned his eyes about the rest of the ships observing the small amount of activity that was aboard each of the perfectly lined up ships of the navy.

He watched for a few moments, when he swore he heard the sound of distant plane engines approaching and getting louder.

He looked up at the sky again, and the 'birds' appeared over head. It was only then that he noticed they were not birds at all, but planes. War planes. The one at the front dropped something and it it began to fall through the sky towards him.

He jumped out of the way, just as the explosion hit the quarter deck. Then another bomb, and another fell. And they kept coming.

America ran to the alarm bell and started to ring it. They were under attack!

Chaos erupted. Men screamed. Explosions rang through the air. The vile stench of smoke covered the salty sea smell. Fire. Orange flames licking the air. They were unprepared. They could not fight back. Everyone was in a state of shock. But the bombs never stopped. They kept on coming.

The yells and shouts of the men were muffled, and unidentifiable. They were panicked and confused. All around him people fell to their deaths, and others scattered like wild animals. "To your posts! Abandon ship! What is happening?"

The explosions filled his ears as he ran across the deck of the Arizona, fire, screams, and explosions booming behind him. Water began to pool into the holes and cracks of the Arizona, as the water rose over it. A cry which ripped through the pandemonium was the only identifiable thing that could be heard.

"THEY SUNK THE ARIZONA!"

America jumped from the remains onto the next ship in line and continued to run, just as the sea swallowed her up, as one explosion after another caused a domino effect to all the ships which were lined up. The whole time, all America would think of was who? Who was responsible for the attack on our neutral country?

His body hit the water and he began to swim towards the docks, away from the chaos. Though with bombs exploding, and people falling to their deaths all around him, he was hopelessly caught right in the middle.

He gasped for breath as he tried to make the difficult, tiring swim to shore, kicking and flailing, his heavy clothes trying to pull him down to the depths to be swallowed up like the Arizona. His salt-clouded gaze finally met with the wooden dock. A bomb that had decimated had ripped a large, jagged piece off, and a figure stood amongst the chaos, still, unfazed by the chaos he was watching. America's burning eyes were just able to make out the basic features. Black hair, petite height, white uniform. This was the last person America expected to be the attacker.

He swam toward the broken dock.

"Japan?" America said in disbelief.

The expression on the other nation's face was emotionless. Uncaring. As he watched his planes bomb the harbor.

"Japan-" he was cut off as the other nation kneeled down and held out a hand to pull him up. The moment he was on his feet, the other nation let go of him and backed up. Then he drew his katana and ran forward to attack. It occured to America that they were no longer friends. But rivals. America darted out of the way of the blade. Japan went to attack again, this time clipping America's arm with his just sharpened blade. America hissed in pain. He was unarmed, except for a pistol at his side. But he didn't want to shoot Japan if he could avoid it. He needed to find something to wield to defend himself. He found a long, jagged piece of wood. He used it to deflect Japan's strike. Splinters of wood flew in the air, and Japan quickly yanked his katana free. He backed up, ran and tried to leap in the air for an overhead strike. America raised the wood piece to defend himself. The force of Japan's swing and the heavy blade caused it to split in half, and wrench free from America's grasp. Splinters flew, and there were now tiny shards of wood and scrapes on the blond's hands. America looked down at his broken "shield" and darted out of the way again, diving to the dock and rolling a few inches, painfully bruising himself, putting a gash in his head that bled down the side of his face. He drew his gun and started to shoot at the approaching nation, but his quick reflexes used the sword to deflect the bullets. Seeing that it was useless, America dropped the gun and got up from the ground. Just as he was up and balanced, a stinging pain ripped through his entire front. He looked down, crimson blood was pooling down his uniform to the dock from the long gash Japan had made from his shoulder to his opposite hip. His head began to spin and his gaze became blurred do to the result of the stinging pain that seemed to envelope his entire body. He crumpled to the ground and watched himself bleeding out. He looked back up at Japan. There was a terrible light in his eyes, and a look of hatred on his face, as he glared defiantly into America's eyes, wiped off his bloody sword, put it back in its scabbard, and turned and walked to the edge of the broken dock. He boarded the plane that hovered at its base, and then at once, all of the attackers turned and retreated the harbor. And America's world went black.

-xXx-

Tears welled up in Japan's eyes as he remembered the red. The hurt expression, and the cold, heartlessneess he had when he turned and walked away.

"Dude, seriously, it's not even a big deal anymore. Honestly, I hardly even knew what happened until FDR's speech."

"But that reminder is forever permanent upon your skin, and its my faulrt."

"It's just a battle scar. I've got loads of them."

"But-"

"It's cool, I know, it's probably hard for you. But hey, it's the past. It doesn't mean anything anymore. It's fine."

"No it's not! I tried to kilr you! When you did absorutery nothing wrong!" His voice had risen with rare emotion, and tears dribbled down his cheeks. He hung his head down and watched tears hit the blanket.

"Hey, dude, calm down...if it bothers you that much I'll put my shirt back on."

"No...I need to be punished for what I did."

"Dude, you're being ridiculous. Stop freaking crying! This little flesh scar means nothing compared to what we did so stop punishing yourself!" America felt tears brimming his own eyes, "we already punished you...We punished you more than we should have. We dropped two nuclear bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki! So don't even say you still need to be punished!" Japan looked up at America with his tear-stained face, and then at the ugly burn scars on the back of his own shoulder. The outline of his kimono had partially burned onto his skin when his cities had been bombed.

America sat down beside him. "This stupid scar is nothing compared to that."

"But I deserved it." Japan replied.

"No. You didn't. You didn't deserve us dropping nuclear bombs you." America replied.

"Yes I did. I deserved it because I hurt you without reason."

"Shut up!" America's eyes filled with tears and he raised his voice. "Just shut up, man. You don't need this. You don't need to live with that guilt every day like me. Whenever I see your face...it reminds me..."

Japan looked at him. Head hung, shoulders hunched. His young face with eyes so much older than the rest. His entire body was littered with scars. He was so young but yet he had gone through so much. He had endured more than he should have.

Japan felt he had wronged him. And wanted to make it up to him. He thought long and hard about how. What did Americans do when they wanted to apologize? When they wanted to make up? He believed the answer was "hug it out." He wasn't used to physical contact and it made him uncomfortable, but if it would make America feel better he would do it. He took a deep breath and then edged closer. Then he turned his body and slowly, unsurely wrapped his arms around the larger person, and sunk himself into his chest, the steady thumping of his heart soothing the Japanese man. "I'm sorry." He said quietly.

America froze and the advancement of the Japanese and hugged back. They remained like that for several minutes, it seemed, until they finally let go.

"I really am sorry." Japan said.

"So am I, man...believe me." America replied.

"But...the past is in the past though...right?"

America smiled, "Yeah. And nothing like that'll happen again."

"Hai. I agree."

"So...do you want to go in the water?"

"Yes." Japan pulled off his tank top and America helped him off the blanket and together, in step, they walked towards the waves.


End file.
